Revenge of the Jedi
by penguinfragger
Summary: AU. Takes place during and after Ep III. After his defeat at the hands of the Sith Lords, Mace Windu falls through the city of Coruscant to his apparent death. But a series of unexpected events may change his fate. FINISHED. PLEASE R&R.
1. Prologue : Fall of a Master

The Jedi Master flew out of the shattered window like a rocket and plummeted into the mile-deep streets below. The unconscious figure fell for what seemed like ages, his burnt and blackened robes flapping wildly about, masking his figures. All the wisdom and grace of the Jedi Order, the lore gathered over so many years, destroyed in an instant by the purest form of hatred. Not a thought crossed the peaceful mind as he fell past the many levels of Coruscant, between buildings and traffic lanes. By the greatest of hazards, or perhaps by the will of the Force itself, the would-be fatal fall was cut short by the passage of an ordinary Public Transport speeder. The body of the Jedi fell with a thump into the backseat, sending the small craft off balance and shooting at an odd angle at one of Coruscant's towering buildings. Were it not for a desperate maneuver of the pilot, the speeder would have crashed right into the façade. As he regained control of his ship, the pilot's com unit crackled to life. It was the local Public Security Center.

"PT-87, you have abandoned your trajectory and have left the authorized traffic zone. Please return to your lane immediately."

The pilot fumbled with his com and spat.

"PT-87 here, everything is fine. Sorry about the slip, I momentarily lost control. Everything's fine here. I…I'm returning to the traffic lane right now."

He shut off his com, activated the autopilot that would bring him back on trajectory, and turned around in his seat to take a look at what had hit him. His first guess would have been some piece of trash dumped from an upper level or from some ship, but what he saw took his breath away. Lying in his backseat amid his charred robes was the noble figure of a Jedi Knight, apparently dead. His face was burned yet peaceful, his right arm ended in a stump right after the elbow joint. The traditional lightsaber was not present at his belt. What the hell had happened to this guy, the pilot wondered. He had heard tales of Jedi Knights, he had even seen a few of them on Coruscant, but they had always been walking briskly along, alone or in pairs, and always wore their long cloaks and lightsabers and their belts. He had heard stories of Jedi in battle, and had always been told how strong and noble they were, wielding their lightsabers in the heat of battle like true heroes. He had never imagined that a Jedi Knight could actually be _killed_. Yet this one most surely seemed that way.

The pilot began wondering what he would do with the body. What would happen to him if he was found in the company of a dead Jedi Knight? He shuddered at the thought. Making up his mind, he swerved into another traffic lane that was going down vertically, heading straight for the lowest levels of the city. As he descended he felt the environment become more and more hostile. The bustling streets and bars were gradually replaced by dingy alleys and taverns, the laughing and busy crowd replaced by smugglers and backstabbers, lurking in the shadows. Even the ships suffered a change, and the gleaming starships that circled the upper levels were replaced by a dirty mismatch of smuggling freighters and modified starfighters. Light itself was a scarce resource down here, as the pilot wove his way between smaller and dirtier buildings, until he finally reached such a dingy and dirty street he stopped. He cut his engine, hopped out of his speeder onto the small walkway, and walked around to the rear of his craft. He heaved the body out, and dragged it to the edge of the walkway. Down below was utter darkness, and there came forth a great stench. The way down was too narrow for his speeder, so he had no other choice than to get rid of the body himself. With a last look at the Jedi's face, the pilot flung the body into the abyss with all his might. He watched as the corpse flapped downwards and out of sight. With a sigh of relief, he climbed back into his speeder and set off towards more inhabitable areas.

For the second time in less than an hour, Mace Windu fell through the streets of Coruscant, unconscious. This fall however was much shorter than the last. After about twenty meters he landed in a rather soft pile of garbage down in one of Coruscant's bottommost levels. He lay there for several hours before he stirred and slowly regained consciousness. As he came to his senses, he sniffed the reek and noticed the almost total absence of light. He got to his feet in a hurry, starring wildly around. There was nothing in sight, no sound, no movement. He felt nothing in the Force, nothing but a constant buzzing sound. It felt horribly like void. Something must have happened, something horrible. Not only to him, but to all the Jedi. Master Yoda had been right. The Jedi Order could not have perished already, he thought. Mace lowered his gaze onto the stump of his arm. A single word, a single name came into his mind as he starred at the blackened and scared flesh that stuck out of his robes: Skywalker. So his true colors had finally shown. He had been right in not trusting him. The young Jedi had betrayed the Order by attacking him. He had turned, turned to the dark side, Mace thought bitterly. That brought the number of recognized Sith lords in the galaxy up to two. He took off his blackened robes and wrapped his right arm in them as best he could. Then, he stumbled forward, seeking a lift. He could not linger here forever. There were things to be taken care of. There was a Sith Lord that had to be destroyed. There was _revenge_ to be taken.


	2. Chapter I : Exile

As the lift bore him upwards through the levels of Coruscant, Mace Windu reflected on what might have happened during those few hours where he had been unconscious. The last thing he remembered was Anakin slicing off his arm with his lightsaber, and Palpatine attacking him with the traditional Sith attack which involved using the Force under the form of pure physical energy, likewise to lightning. All that followed was blank, and he assumed he must have been out for at least four hours. Skywalker must have become a Sith Lord. After what he had done he knew he could not return to the Order. And Palpatine…Palpatine had shown his true colors as well. He was indeed the Dark Lord of the Sith they had been hunting. He undoubtedly corrupted young Skywalker to the dark side. It would seem logical, as they always spent time together. Anakin spoke very highly of the man who had been usurping his mandate as President of the Republic Senate for several years. And after all, had he not sacrificed a Jedi Master to save Palpatine? Yes, Skywalker was undoubtedly a Sith lord, Palpatine's new apprentice. After Dooku's death, he must have been seeking a new disciple, and Skywalker had filled that place. Mace glared at the wall in front of him as he meditated over this. And what of the blank he felt in the Force, the eerie void? He did not know what it meant, yet he had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. Habitually, he could always feel the presence, close or distant, of his fellow Jedi. Master Windu was very sensible to the Force, and could feel his friend's emotions from over great distances. Yet he presently felt nothing. What could that mean?

And then it came to him. If Palpatine was a Sith Lord, and he controlled the Republic, then the Republic itself was led by the dark side of the Force. He could easily have declared the Jedi as enemies to the Republic, and there would have been none who would stand against him. The Senate was in the palm of his hand, they both knew it. The unknowing Jedi could have been trapped. They could have been ambushed. They could have been _killed_. As this realization came over him, Mace Windu felt his world ebb away beneath his feet. It could surely not be. The Jedi Order, which had lasted for so many millennia, couldn't have been destroyed in so short a time. No. A single tear leaked down his cheek and fell into his robes. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind of these thoughts, as the lift bore him ever up.

Finally, after over ten minutes of standing in the small tube, the doors opened and Mace Windu stepped out into the semi-darkness of Coruscant's mid-levels. These areas were still considered as inhabitable by most of the population, and were home to many poor folk, or smugglers that weren't too desperate about being caught or else too foolish to care. Mace stumbled along the walkway, drawing many awkward glances. Not caring for any attention, he put his cloak back on and lowered the hood, to pass unrecognized. He tucked his right arm by his side and wrapped his right sleeve into a knot. He walked along amid the crowd of strangers, some of whom looked suspiciously at him. Luckily, clone security forces were not present this far down. Ever since the Separatist strike at the capital, the Republic had set a guard all over the planet, mobilizing several tens of thousands of clones just to guard the place. He walked into the nearest medical center he found, and banked some cash to get his wound cleaned and stitched. When the medical droid suggested grafting a biomechanical arm, he denied the offer, stating that he would come back if he estimated he needed one. The truth was that Mace had little time to spare. The operation would undoubtedly take him the entire day and cost him the greater part of his credit account, and he had to get moving. If the Republic had, as he suspected, turned against the Jedi, it would be foolhardy for him to stay on it's capital planet. He ignored if any other Jedi had survived, but he could feel nothing at present. His thoughts turned to Obi-Wan Kenobi and Master Yoda. They had been two of the greatest Jedi Masters within the Order. He had great trouble imagining them dead. He could simply not picture Yoda in defeat. He had seen him in battle before, and if he was small in size, he was the greatest warrior Mace had ever seen. He could simply not imagine any force, however overwhelming, getting the better over Yoda.

After getting his wound mended, Mace took another lift towards the upper levels. He would have to be quick. He could not risk being recognized by any Republic official. As he reached the sunlit upper levels, he strode towards the nearest shuttle platform. Scrolling the schedules on a small holographic display, he spotted a public shuttle that was bound off-planet in fifteen minutes. He walked up to the republican droid behind the ticket counter and bought a ticket. Ten minutes later, Mace sat in the cramped passenger compartment of the shuttle, meditating, waiting for the vessel to take off, when something unexpected and uninvited happened.

A patrol of three clone troopers climbed onto the shuttle and into the passenger compartment, apparently looking for someone. Mace remained immobile as a statue of stone, following the three clones with his eyes only. As they drew closer to where he sat, he tensed, prepared to run. He didn't have the strength at present to fight off three clone troopers, and he had lost his lightsaber along with his right arm. However, when the clones were about five meters from him, a man right behind them jumped to his feet and made a mad dash for the exit. The last clone in line turned, brought his blaster to bear, and fired a stunning round right between the man's shoulders. He fell down in a heap. The three of them walked over to the unconscious figure, and one of them turned him over with his boot to get a look at his face. He glanced at him comrades, nodded, and they lifted the man up and dragged him away. The remaining clone stayed for a few seconds, and his gaze drifted over to the corned where Mace was sitting. The clone stared at him for a few seconds, his hands fidgeting on his blaster. Then he spoke in a muffled voice.

"You want to be careful when picking your jokes sir. Pretending to be a Jedi in these moments is a bad idea you know, it could get you killed. If you want my advice, stop fooling around."

With that, he walked out of the shuttle and onto the bay. One of the clones gave a thumbs-up signal to the shuttle pilot, who sealed the hatches, ignited the engines, and took off. Mace sat there, still as immobile as before. His eyes were now glazed however. So it is true, he thought. I was right. The Republic has turned against us. His mind was blank as the shuttle roared into the sky, out of Coruscant's atmosphere, and finally far away from the planet. He felt a slight lurch as the ship entered hyperspace. He would have to hide. At least until he had regained his strength. He also needed a place where he could rebuild his lightsaber in peace. He needed a new arm. As Mace mulled all these things over in his mind, he tried to decide where the hell he was going to go. Any Republic-controlled planet would be dangerous for him now, and every planet within three hundred parsecs of Coruscant was Republic-controlled. And then the obvious choice came into his mind. He would rather have avoided it, but is seemed like the only option available to avoid the Republic. And he could find all he needed there, a new arm and materials to construct a lightsaber. So be it, he thought. He would go to Tatooine.


	3. Chapter II : Return within

Mace Windu walked down the shuttle's ramp into Tatooïne's baking heat. The twin suns glared down at him from the sky, and the warm breeze made his robes flutter as he walked towards the nearest patch of shade he could find. As he rested in the shade of a small shop, he took in his surroundings and the bustling activity all around him. Everywhere he looked, people of all races and sexes were milling about, checking out shops, barking at each other, or just rushing by in a stressful sort of way. All the buildings he could see were made of dried earth, and yet there was apparently no local architecture. Great monumental domes stood beside small dirty huts and spiky roofed buildings. The occasional freighter would fly low over the town, heading for one of the many subterranean landing bays or off into the blue. The occasional sound of a blaster or a yell would rise from any of the many narrow alleys, but no one seemed to pay them much attention. Mace smiled. It wouldn't be difficult to pass around unrecognized here.

He began making his plans about what he was going to do. He knew he needed to replace his lost arm, for one. He also knew he needed a new lightsaber. The process of constructing one was a long and tedious task, and even with his new arm he would undoubtedly require many weeks to accomplish it. Once those two things were done…he didn't know yet. Try as he might, he couldn't think of any way of getting back at the Sith Lords.

In the end he decided to meditate over those facts later. He began wandering around the filthy streets, looking for any form of medical center. After about ten minutes, he spotted a small dingy shop that sported medicinal and biomechanical gear. He entered the small shop and gazed around hesitantly, not too sure if he should go for it or not. Before he could walk out though, the shopkeeper, a rather smallish Gand with a patch over his middle eye, came out of the recesses of his shop and greeted him.

"Welcome my dear customer! What can I do for you today? I can see you are quite the muscular type, perhaps you would be interested by our all-new physical booster? Only seven hundred…"

Mace cut him short. He explained his need in a few words, and the Gand took it he knew what he was here for.

"Of course we have arms sir. We have a fine selection of human models along with skin tissues of all colors and textures. Follow me."

The alien led the Jedi to the back of his shop through a small door and into the gloomy back area. Behind a shimmering laser barrier, there stood a dozen biomechanical arms lying on glass shelves. The range of choice was impressive. There were seven-fingered ones, some with three articulations, and even one with a piston inserted in the wrist for added crushing power. Mace contemplated the collection briefly and pointed out the simplest and cheapest model, a slim forty centimeter long forearm, made of a hardened alloy, practically unbreakable. The vendor's face fell slightly when he saw his client's choice, but he caught himself almost immediately.

"Very well good sir, a PIX-97 it is. I presume you would want to have it grafted right away?"

Mace nodded.

"Then follow me please, we'll enter the surgery room. This should only take an hour or so, as I've got to connect all your nerves to the arm's electrical systems."

He led Mace into another small room in the middle of which stood a large surgery chair. The shelves were packed with various instruments and components, and the place smelled strongly of anesthetic and various other medicinal products. The Gand indicated the chair to Mace, who sat down, and rushed out to get the arm model from the glass shelves. He came back a moment later, holding the arm in his hand.

"Excellent choice sir, excellent choice." He muttered.

He administered a local anesthetic and got to work on Mace's arm. The Jedi sat there in the chair as the Gand sawed his arm apart, not feeling a thing. His thoughts were drifting back towards the matter of the Sith. He was still amazed at the way they had made their comeback, after a thousand years of near extinction. They had passed from oppression to leading the galaxy's greatest force in a matter of days. They had whipped out the Jedi Order. For all he could tell, he, Mace Windu, was the last Jedi left alive in the galaxy. That meant that not only did revenge lie on his shoulders, but the survival of the entire Jedi Order. He sighed to himself, thinking about his friends who must have died at the hands of the Sith. He remembered when Palpatine slew the three Jedi that had accompanied him to his office. He remembered when he had attacked him and thrown him out of the window to his doom. He had to be destroyed, Mace thought. He had been on the brink of doing it when Skywalker had gotten involved. Had it not been for him, the Sith would have been destroyed for good. As he thought over it, he became amused at the thought that the fate of the galaxy had been gambled in that instant, and that the gambler had miserably lost. So much for freedom and peace, he thought. He let himself snooze as his operation pursued.

He woke up an hour later, with the Gand shaking him.

"Sir, your arm has been successfully attached. I estimate you will recover within a week ninety-seven percent of your former arm's efficiency. If you would care for some skin, I can show you our selection."

Mace nodded to the Gand again. The little creature hobbled away and returned a moment later bearing a platter on which stood quite a grisly show. Two dozen pieces of skin were stuck at specific places, each one labeled with a number. Mace indicated a dark tone that matched his own skin at best, and the Gand nodded his approval. He went to a closet and rummaged around in it, muttering to himself, and returned with what looked like a dark wobbly glove. He took Mace's arm and inserted it into the glove, which turned out to be his new skin. The Gand sowed up the end with Mace's real skin, and announced that it should mend naturally within two days. Mace slowly got up from the chair and flexed his new fingers. A slight buzzing sound came from his wrist as he did so, but the fingers and hand moved perfectly, and he found all his former dexterity in them. He thanked the vendor and let him lead him back to the front of the shop to the counter. He paid the sum the Gand asked for, however exorbitant it seemed, and walked out of the shop, his new arm swinging at his side.

As he wandered around the streets, he began establishing a mental list of all the materials he would need to build his new lightsaber. Some were quite rare and undoubtedly very costly. The Adegan crystals for example would be out of price. And he needed to consider all the metals, cables and the extremely long-during power cell needed in the construction of a Jedi's weapon. As the day wore on, he decided that he would first find a place to rest and resource himself. He needed sleep and food, things that were essential even to a Jedi. In the mid afternoon he found a small building whose owner accepted to rent him a room for a low price. Mace told him he would likely be there for several weeks, perhaps even months, and the man just nodded away at him over his drink. "No problem", he would keep telling him. "I've got plenty of rooms in there". Mace ate at the closest bar, returned to his small room, which had for only furniture a bed, a small table beside it and a rickety desk at the end of the chamber. He fell down onto his bed and went into a dreamless sleep almost immediately. When he woke up, it was dark outside. The air was surprisingly cold, and he drew himself together as he began to meditate. He sat there, eyes closed in silence until the sun rose, lost deep in thought, thinking many things over in his mind.

As the day rose over Mos Eisley and the twin suns stared once more down onto the town, Mace walked out of his room, refreshed mentally and physically. After eating, he began questing for the materials he would need for the construction of his lightsaber. He checked out every shop that may have anything precious to him, and returned to his room at the end of the day carrying a large bag full of metal alloys and circuits, to his host's greatest surprise.

"What you gonna do wi' all dat?" He asked inquiringly

Mace smiled at him and did not answer, but dropped of the bag in his room and spent the evening and night alone, deep in thought as the last. He spent his first week in this fashion, going out all day and returning in the evening with a bag or box full of materials. He managed to find all the alloys he would need, along with many precious circuits he would have to insert into the hilt. The crystals however, he could not find. Nor had he seen any power cell or flux conductor powerful enough to be inserted into a lightsaber. He knew he could not commence the construction until he had all the required materials, and he also knew he would not commence it under the roof of his current host. The host, a human male named Rack, was beginning to get suspicious of him. Once or twice, he tried to get a peek inside the Jedi's room, but all he could see were crates and bags full of metals plates and circuit, before Mace closed the door in his face.

It was, finally, on the twelfth day of his stay that Mace found what he was looking for. He had wandered that day into a large shop that boasted many high-powered components, usually used in the construction of starships. He found a power cell, which was usually used in the construction of starship weaponry, and flux conductors that usually served in the coolant systems of a cruiser's electrical systems. To his amazement, the vendor even had a small collection of Adegan crystals which he claimed were used by the mighty "Jaydie" in the construction of their light sticks. He considered his collection as more sentimental that authentic, and didn't really believe in the legend anyway, and so Mace was able to get three crystals off him for hardly anything at all. That night he returned to his room and deposited his latest bag. He spent the whole night organizing his materials for the construction, and by morning he had stripped down his twelve bags down to two. That, he estimated, was the strict minimum he could use for the construction of his new saber. The next day he thanked his host, paid him the fee he asked, which had gone up considerably since he had seen Mace smuggling all those bags into his room, and left his room.

That day he walked, walked away from town and into the poor areas. He was searching for a new home, further away from the populated places of Mos Eisley, a place where he could concentrate himself on his task without being disturbed or suspected. By nightfall, he had found, more by luck than anything else, a small hut where lived a small family of two. They accepted to lodge him, and Mace insisted he would pay them for their trouble and kindness. He went into his new room, even smaller than the last and devoid of desk, and set his two bags down beside his bed. Tomorrow, he thought, he would begin the construction. Tomorrow he would see just how much he had forgotten of that long and tedious process since his days as a Padawan. Grinning inside, Mace lay down and fell asleep.


	4. Chapter III : Departure

Disclaimer: Yeah, I forgot this at the beginning, so uh…I don't own Star Wars or any of its characters, blah blah…so if you sued me already, well just read chapter three! Ha!

The next days saw the Jedi Master totally absorbed in his work. Mace no longer came out, but spent his entire days in the cool shade of his host's hut, lost in thought or concentrating most utterly on his task at hand. His lightsaber was coming along nicely. The construction was an enormously complex and absorbing task, and at many times he had to search his thoughts and memories to retrieve some obscure secret of fabrication.

At last, on the second day of the fifth week of his stay, Mace set the last focusing lens in place. He held his small metallic cylinder in front of him and contemplated it. The polished metal handle was heavy and warm in his hand, and, with mingled expectations, he turned the power on. With a static hiss, a meter-long violet energy blade shot out of the hilt and hummed gently. Mace had decided to keep the color of his original saber, and had chosen his crystals accordingly. Satisfied, he swung the blade around a couple of times, testing at the same time the grip of his new hand, before he shut the power off. He clipped the weapon to his belt and pulled on his robes, their folds hiding the shining cylinder.

He had no more need to linger here. He exited his room and found his host whom he thanked dearly, and set off. Dusk was falling over Mos Eisley as Mace walked briskly down the streets, seeking the nearest spaceport where he was sure to find an offbound shuttle. The night here, he noted, seemed to have no effect whatsoever on the local population: the streets were just as crowded as in broad daylight, and some creatures seemed truly delighted to see the twin suns sink beyond the horizon. The noise from the cantinas and bars practically doubled. A blasterfight seemed to have erupted in some back alley to Mace's right, and several shots later, he heard a muffled scream and a loud thump. An instant later, Mace ducked as a bolt passed right over his head. His hand plunged into his robes but did not ignite his saber. He did not want to give away his identity unless he absolutely couldn't avoid it. His attacker, a baldish man with yellow teeth of which half were missing, starred at him flabbergasted. He raised his blaster again but instead of firing, it tore from his grasp and soared neatly into Mace's open hand, who discarded it, never taking his eyes off the man. Around him, things kept their usual course. Flying blasters must be more common than flashing lightsabers here, Mace thought. The man took a couple of steps forward out of the shadows and grinned.

"If you're not a Jedi, then you're one hell of a magician."

Mace stared at him coldly. The man, undaunted by his stone-faced opponent, carried on.

"I heard the Jedi've been havin' trouble these days." He said, grinning in an eerie manner. "big trouble. Trouble that got em' all dead."

The man was only a meter or so in front of Mace now. He spoke in barely more than a whisper.

"The Emperor's put one hell of a bounty on any survivin' Jedi's head, you know."

Mace's hand entered his cloak.

"He wants em' all dead." Grin. "Dead."

His eyes glinted. In an instant, twin vibroblades had shot from either of his jacket's sleeves and he brandished them before him in an aggressive stance.

"Die for me, Jedi."

Before he could pounce, a blur of light blinded him as Mace's lightsaber came to life, slashing around and searing both vibroblades in half. Within half a second, the man was rendered defenseless, the energy blade humming menacingly under his throat. Slowly, the Jedi forced him backwards into the alley he had come out of, back into the shadows. The few curious people who had looked up at this scene went back to their business without second thought. The two men were very close, the violet blade of the lightsaber crossing the distance between them, illuminating their features. Before a calm Mace stood a shivering and terrified man, backing away from the advancing blade. It was the Jedi who spoke first this time.

"You are a bounty hunter, correct ?"

The man nodded.

"The Emperor has set a bounty on all Jedi's heads ?"

All he got was another frightened nod.

"What do you know of the Jedi's trouble you speak of ?"

The man's eyes widened. So he didn't know anything, he thought. The shadow of a grin returned to his face as he spoke.

"Not much" he said sheepishly "not much at all. But I dare say a few little credits may lighten me up."

Mace glared at him with such intensity that the man dropped the idea quickly.

"I know most of them are dead. Must have died horribly gruesome deaths, with all them clones after em."

The man paused to look at Mace's reaction. Seeing none, he pursued.

"I knew they'd all end up bad, playing their damn little heroic…"

The blade inched slightly closer to his face, forcing him back a couple of steps.

"So the Republic has turned against the Jedi?"

"What? Hey where the hell did you come out of ? The Jedi tried to take over the Republic mate, and all got killed doing so. Stupid gits. Palpatine wasn't very lenient though, and so he's set a price on all surviving Jedi's heads…about the same time he proclaimed the Empire. That, and he set all his clones after em. He wants to exterminate the order, cuz apparently they've turned dangerous."

Mace pondered these words for a few seconds.

"Do you know of any survivors?"

"Well hello, you're standing right in front of me and if you're not a Jedi, I'll eat myself. But aside you, no. I think the clones got em all. Damn efficient, they are. Wouldn't wanna be on their bad side."

"And what of the Separatists?"

"Oh come on man, wake up! They're long gone. Their leaders were ambushed or something…anyway, they dissolved a few weeks after they struck at Coruscant."

Mace mulled over this information in his head. He knew that the Sith now controlled the Republic, or Empire as the man called it, that the Separatists were no more…the leaders had undoubtedly been murdered, and that all the Jedi were dead. That would explain the void he had felt back on Coruscant, when he had emerged from the lower levels of the city. Something seemed to have vanished inside him. Something he had lived with his entire life, something he had grown to know and be fond of. Glancing back at the man, he turned off his lightsaber.

"You will not speak of our little chat to anyone" He said, flicking his hand in the typical Jedi gesture. The subtle mind trick worked as effectively as always.

"Of…of course not!" The man babbled.

And with that, he ran out of the alley, picked up his blaster, and disappeared down the street. Mace's thoughts then inevitably turned to the question that he had been pondering for all these weeks. How in the Force was he going to take on two masters of evil, residing on the capital planet of a hostile empire, and defended by countless armies ? And they were not exactly defenseless either. He almost laughed out loud at the sheer insanity of the project. He would, of course, find a way.

If he was the last of the Jedi, his responsibility would be enormous. The survival of the order lay on his shoulders. However, he could not hope to revive the order as long as the Sith Lords controlled the Republic. Any effort of his in that direction would be futile, and rapidly swept away. He would have to eliminate Chancellor Palpatine…and Skywalker, if he had indeed, as Mace highly suspected, turned to the dark side. Where could he find them? Coruscant, without doubt…The man had spoken of a newly proclaimed Empire…yes, it would undoubtedly suit a Sith lord to have supreme power over the greatest force in the galaxy. They would be busy all right…you can't just swap government for several thousand star systems at once without proper organization. Would they be together? As Master and Apprentice, surely…Mace could only assume that if Skywalker had turned to the dark side, Palpatine would take him as apprentice. Could he defeat them both together? He didn't know…He had lost once, yet…it would be wise to avoid taking foolish risks. If he could catch one of his foes alone, he could surely vanquish. He would have to be patient…and alert.

His mind settled for the moment, Mace began walking in direction of the nearest spaceport. Time to get off this rock.

A lone figure stood by the windowed bay of a large office, surveying the busy traffic lanes of Coruscant. It admired the thousands of small ships weaving their way between the towering buildings in orderly lanes, and the occasional larger ship what would lumber away towards space, engines roaring. All this, all this commotion, all this life…belonged to it. To it _alone._

"Lord Vader" The cloaked figure whispered.

"Yes Master?"

Another figure, darker yet, emerged from the shadows, its breath coming in eerie static rasps through its breathing mask.

"I sense a presence still in the Force. The flame of the Jedi is not dead."

There was a slight pause.

"I sense nothing Master."

"I question your motives, Lord Vader. How is it that our extermination procedures could have failed?"

"My hatred against the Jedi has never faltered Master, and if a Jedi survived the Purge, I will personally see that he is dealt with."

"I indeed hope so, Vader, for both our sakes. We cannot tolerate the Jedi to survive, in however a remote fashion. They must-be-destroyed."

"It shall be done my Master."

And with that the masked figure walked from the room, its black cloak billowing in its wake.


	5. Chapter IV: Into the hands of Evil

Note: Sorry it took so long to update, but I was really busy with schoolwork and other stuff lately.

Mace rested his head in his hands as he sat on a bench in his small quarters in the public shuttle to Ruan. He had finally elaborated his plan. He had opted against the option of taking on both Sith Lords together. A heroic death wouldn't avoid the fact that the Sith would achieve final victory over the Jedi, which was an unacceptable idea. He would have to exert caution and great care in his planning. That was why he was headed to Ruan, one of the closest planets to Coruscant. From there he would be able to monitor their activities, and however gruesome they were, he would only allow himself to strike when one was alone. By selecting Ruan, he would be able to stay at the same time close enough to be able to land upon the Sith Lords within a day, but he would have to remain under cover during his stay. Ruan was, of course, a Republic-controlled planet. Mace had smuggled himself onto the shuttle the same way he intended to smuggle himself out and stay hidden. He wouldn't commit the stupid error of allowing himself to be caught to expect getting near the Sith Lords. The clones would likely execute him on sight. As for the spike he created in the Force…well, Mace simply had to hope for the best. With the Sith Lords busy as they were, he hoped they would not detect him. Besides, however attuned one is to the Force, from a planet such as Coruscant, it is quite difficult to focus on a single entity of the Force. So many billions come and go each day, and many millions are strong with the Force…though the infinite majority of them don't know it. If Mace was detected, well, he would fight. But he knew that in order to win he had to bring the battle under his own terms.

He sat there on his bench, thinking, as the shuttle rocketed into Ruan's atmosphere. Coruscant glowed in the sky, brighter than any other star. The ship descended through the turbulent atmosphere and the light of Ruan's lone sun rapidly faded to semi-darkness as the shuttle passed beneath cloud level. The vessel rocked as it tumbled downwards, and Mace casually glanced out his viewport to see they were approaching a massive landing field a few miles out of an even larger city. This planet must be the "suburb" of Coruscant, in some sort. Mace got up, flattened his robes, and exited his quarters. Time to get off this shuttle before passenger inspection.

The six hundred meter long public craft landed heavily but gracefully on its repulsors before settling neatly to the ground. Pressure valves hissed in relief and it was a general commotion inside, as everyone pushed toward the exits, waiting for the ramps to come down. When they finally did, all the passengers got their first glimpse of Ruan. Some had been here before, and just walked down as if it were habit. Others were exalted, others yet were politely curious. The mob marched down the three large boarding ramps that covered the side of the mammoth vessel, onto the tarmac where a detachment of clone troopers stood waiting. They began inspecting the passengers and clearing them for safe entry onto Ruan, with the Emperor's welcome. In the general commotion, no one saw the cloaked figure slip out of the rearmost hatch and disappear behind the ramp. Mace Windu ran furtively across the tarmac, a little uneasy in this wide open space. Dozens of other ships were parked on the field, ranging from small freighters to public transport shuttle such as the one he had just taken. A menacing Imperial battle cruiser lay at the far end of the strip, as if waiting for any smaller ship to step out of line. Mace hid behind the landing gear of a small freighter and peered around. Clones were all over the place. AT-TE walkers guarded the edges of the landing field, squads patrolled at intervals of perhaps three hundred meters only. The whole landing field and its facilities must have been at least eight kilometers long by five wide. Mace ducked as he heard a small humming sound approaching. He peeked around the landing gear and saw a small hovercraft approaching. It halted a few meters from the ship, and a humanoid alien with blue-tinted skin stepped out of the cabin and walked up to the freighter's outer control panel. He tipped in a few buttons, and a second later a small hatch lowered, leading up into the ship's hold. The alien raised a small device in its hand, and four small repair droids sprang to life on the back of the hovercraft. They scampered into the hold and came out moments later, laden with several heavy crates, which they dutifully pilled into the back compartment of the hovercraft. After three similar journeys, the droids simply returned to their original position in the back of the truck and, at an alien's touch of a button, snapped back into sleep mode. The alien, humming to himself, climbed back into the cabin and began moving the craft away. Mace didn't waste a split second. Crouching, he ran up the back of the hovercraft as it left and leapt up between two stacks of crates. There he crouched, watching the landing strip zoom by him as the hovercraft made for some sort of storage hangar.

The small vessel pulled into a massive hangar, filled with hundreds of crates and boxes and cages. The place was fairly deserted in comparison with the strip, being occupied only by a few security personnel. A few droids walked here and there, carrying crates, but aside from them the hangar seemed empty. The hovercraft settled down and Mace immediately leapt off and melted into the shadows. A few seconds later and the repair droids were busy staking up the crates in piles, while the alien waited patiently for them to finish their chores. At the click of a button they switched off, and he was off to the staff quarters. Mace waited a full five minutes, hardly breathing, to make sure no one was near. Finally, peering left and right, he moved away silently through the shadows.

Mace sat at the bar in a small dingy pub, brooding over his drink, keeping a clear mind amidst the tense atmosphere around him. The place was dark, and a dense smoke hovered down to about four feet off the ground. The population was for the most part humanoid, and any alien with eccentric biology would tend to huddle in one the small booths that bordered the room. The barman that had served Mace was a burly untrusting rodian, who kept throwing him suspicious looks. It was pretty much the last place in the galaxy one would expect to find a Jedi Master in, but here he was. He was at the threshold of the Empire, a mere system away from the two Sith Lords. He sat there, mulling over his thoughts, about how he was going to monitor them, how he would attack when his time came, and ultimately, how he could possibly bring life back to the almost extinct Jedi Order. As he rummaged around in his mind, a string of conversation caught his attention. It was a remarkable ability of his, to be able to pick up a few words amid a jumble of languages in a particularly noisy pub, but these ones sounded out to him loud and clear.

"You heard about that imperial project in the despayre system?"

"Nah, what's up? A new flagship I bet? The _Acclamator_-Class is getting outdated I heard. Pirates in the outer rim already have stuff that can out power them."

"Nah you don't get it man, I'm not talking about any fleet, I'm talking about some sort of ultimate weapon."

"What do ya mean?"

"It can bloody blow up planets man! At least it's what I heard. An imp officer got drunk in here a week ago and started blabbing his head off about it to me…haven't seen him since. He called it the _Death Star_"

"Death Star, eh? Sure sounds imposing enough, but the part about blowing up planets is crap man, no fleet in the universe could gather such firepower."

"I swear it! This guy was drunk but he knew his subject! He said the imp researchers managed to control some new sort of nuclear fusion reactor a few years ago, and that when the power is unleashed in a certain fashion, it creates a beam that connects with planet's core, superheats them, and makes the whole planet blow up! If you think about it, it sounds just like Palp, too. Imagine anyone standing in his way after that."

"Geez, man…"

Mace sat there, not moving a muscle, listening for more. Nothing came. He stared at the reddish liquid in his glass with empty eyes, his mind no longer calm and empty but racing as fast as a starfighter. He was going so fast he was tripping over his own thoughts and getting tangled in them. He breathed out and tried to compose himself. He couldn't tell if what he had just heard was true, but something inside his stomach churned whenever that thought crossed his mind. He would have to verify…the same twisting sensation inside him. It was true, it had to be. He had almost never felt such stress before. A weapon that could destroy planets meant limitless power, which would be just what the Sith had always been looking for. He could not allow it. Not only in the name of the Jedi but in the name of all living things. With the Sith wielding a planet-destroying weapon, no system could hope to be free ever again. He had reached his conclusion before he even knew it. He stood up briskly, tossed a couple of coins onto the bar and strode out. He walked briskly, and the breeze made his cloak flutter behind him. He was heading to the spaceport. Again. He couldn't allow the Sith this power, even if it meant sacrificing himself to stop them. If this were to be the end of the Order, so be it.

After having informed himself at the nearest travel station, Mace hurried over onto the tarmac where the nearest ship at destination of Coruscant was waiting. He was going to the capital city. He was going to put and end to the Sith menace now, or die trying. Knowing he didn't have time enough to hide aboard the ship as he had done on his way on-planet, he made use of one of his finest Jedi skills which was to dissimulate himself from the sight of the weak minded. The clone troopers, being but replicas of an original being, were not exactly bright and were easily fooled by the trick. Mace boarded the shuttle without trouble and settled into a passenger compartment, waiting for take off. He hadn't even had time to reflect on how he was going to engage his enemy. Everything had gone so fast, he had no time. Time was working against him. As the shuttle finally took off, Mace addressed a silent prayer to the Force, and fell into a deep meditation.

In his high tower overlooking the capital city, the cloaked figure smiled to himself.

"Lord Vader" He murmured.

"Yes, Master" The metallic voice answered.

"He is coming."


	6. Chapter V: City of Fallen Angels

Day had barely risen over Coruscant, and the thin morning light was just creeping over the horizon when the shuttle came rocketing into the atmosphere, amidst thousands of other ships. The vessel zoomed down towards its assigned landing platform, and docked neatly. The hatches hissed open, and the passengers milled out as usual, heading towards a group of clone troopers. Mace walked briskly forward, straight towards them. He couldn't concentrate, he couldn't hide. It was useless now anyway, he knew the dark side of the force was now very powerful on this planet, he could feel it. It would cancel out his power, and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't hide. The clones methodically inspected the passengers' papers, checker them for any weapons, proceeded to half a dozen arrests, and cleared the others for entry. When Mace's turn came, the clone trooper nearest to him held up a hand.

"Halt! Please state your name and business"

"My name is Bar Felon, I am here to do business in the speeder bike department."

"Please present your papers."

Mace knew this was it. Either it worked or it didn't. He made a small movement of his hand, concentrating as best he could.

"You don't need to see my papers, everything is in order."

The clone seemed to hesitate for a second.

"Your papers sir."

Crap.

"You don't need to see them, you can clear me now."

"Sir, refusing to cooperate could get you in-"

He never finished his sentence, as a lightsaber swept across his chest in mid-word. The crowd gasped and pushed back, and the clones yelled in surprise and aimed the rifles at him. Mace didn't waste his time but leapt straight into the air, deflecting a few bolts as he did so, and landed twenty feet away, behind the clone lines. Dozens of shots were fired at him within a split second, and Mace, knowing he couldn't parry so many, leapt again to a high ledge of a building behind him, balancing on a narrow rail outside a window. The clones adjusted their aim and blasted away. Mace deflected most of the incoming fire, and dodged the rest, allowing it to melt away the transparisteel window behind him. He jumped inside, in cover of the lasers. Outside, alarms klaxons were blaring, and he could hear the clones yelling orders to each other down below. He knew it wouldn't be long before they got up to where he was. He inspected the corridor he had landed in. It seemed to be some sort of office building, with a wide lane leading all around it in a full circle, and many doors leading off into the central area. For as far as he could see in any direction, the corridor was deserted. A noise outside caught his attention. The familiar whine of an old Republic gunship. Damn. He ran to the nearest door and it hissed open for him, just as powerful laser fire burst through the window and shredded the floor where he had been standing only moments before. He saw he was in an office, with a small desk, several shelves, a deactivated protocol droid sitting in a corner, and a very frightened Gand staring at him with his three wide eyes. The opposing wall was made of glass and seemed to overlook a central tube that descended from the roof to the building's main floor. Mace ran over and looked down, not bothering with the alien. The central tube was about a hundred meters wide, and its sides were made of glass, the windows of hundreds of offices looking in at each other. He swung his lightsaber in one swift motion, shattered the glass, and with a running jump leapt straight out, into the abyss. He fell about twenty meters and landed surprisingly lightly, amid a few highly surprised aliens. He ran for the exit. He burst through the doors and immediately knew where he was. He could recognize some buildings he had seen upon exiting the shuttle, behind him. He was more or less on the opposite side from where he had entered the building. Ahead of him there was a large plaza surrounded by the typical towering Coruscant buildings. Mace dashed straight ahead, across the plaza. Behind him he could hear gunships and clones following. He dodged several laser blasts, and deflected some others. Where was he going? His feet seemed to be guiding him, straight to the Sith Lords. He let the Force lead him. He ran as fast as his legs would allow, and faster still. Ahead a single clone trooper came running out of a building, aimed his rifle and fired. Mace parried the bolt and sent it crashing back into the attacker's throat, who crumpled to the ground. He reached a crevice between two buildings, a street that descended out of sight. Many passageways crisscrossed below him, forming a maze linking habitations, shops, hideouts, and whatnot. Mace leapt down onto the nearest platform, where a dozen clone troopers were doodling, apparently unaware of the commotion above.

"Hey! Sto…"

The clone didn't even have time to finish his phrase before the blade of Mace's sabre cut his head clean off his shoulders. The other clones turned around at the commotion and were bewildered to see their captain lying headless at the feet of what appeared to be a Jedi Knight. Whatever the man was, he did not loose a fraction of a second, but leapt straight at them, his blade working furiously through their ranks and armour. The clones levelled their rifles and opened fire, but the Jedi was already amidst them. In several large sweeps, Mace cleared the platform. Two more clones came running out of a door at the end of the walkway and opened fire. Mace pared the shots with his blade and sent them back at the attackers. One clone ducked, while the other was struck in the chest and tumbled off the walkway, falling down into the bottomless abyss of Coruscant's streets. The surviving clone fired again and again at mace, who pared each and every bolt that came at him, walking straight towards him. When he was a mere meter away, the clone turned to retreat but the violet blade cut right through his chest, sending him toppling to the ground. Mace sheathed his lightsaber and looked around him at the many fallen bodies of the men he had just slain.

He ran down the walkway and into a door.

Mace Windu emerged from the sublevels some time later, several miles from the place he had "disappeared". The clones didn't seem to be on alert in this sector, so he took advantage of that fact to relax and catch his breath. He felt like he had been running for hours. He kept on his course, still guided by the Force. He felt he was near now, he could feel a tingling sensation, all too familiar to him. As he rounded the next corner, he beheld something that momentarily took his breath away. A towering building, rising so high that it made one dizzy just to try and see its summit. It was sober yet splendid at the same time. Upon the threshold was written in black letters, "Imperial Palace". The entrance was guarded by a dozen clones. Mace walked forward. Spotting him, the clones muttered to each other.

"Please state your –"

Same old, Mace thought. Before long his lightsaber was at work again, parrying bolts and cutting through flesh and armour. Once the clones had been dispatched, Mace sheathed his blade and entered the building. He began ascending the staircases, one level at a time, not incline on taking the lift, knowing precisely which floor he wanted to arrive on. Level forty-seven. On and on he climbed, until at last he reached it. He was surprised at the lightness of the guard at the Palace. He had encountered no one on his way up, which was most suspicious. Upon arriving on level forty-seven, he engaged upon a corridor, until at last he reached the door he sought. A plain door, with no ornament and no opening mechanism. Mace drew his breath, flicked his hand, and the door hissed open. Mace entered. Inside, the cloaked figure turned to see his new guest, and smiled.

The door hissed shut.


	7. Chapter VI: Revenge of the Jedi

"Master Windu…" Palpatine whispered.

A smile crawled slowly across his face. He _was_ a mess to look at. His features had been marred beyond healing during their last encounter, when Mace had been so close to destroying him. He wore the usual long black cloak of the Sith Lords, adorned only by the golden glint of a lightsaber hanging at his belt.

"We are…honored…to have you join us today. Lord Vader, please come."

From a doorway behind Palpatine, Mace saw a dark figure emerge. The face was entirely covered by a metallic breathing gear, and a long black cloak draped the figure's shoulders. The Sith's breathing came in static rasps, filtered by his mask. Mace stared at him aghast, and mildly horrified.

"Skywalker?"

The figure walked slowly up to its Master's side. Palpatine smiled even more broadly.

"Yes, Master Windu, you still see things well. Young Skywalker here has chosen his true path. His true destiny."

"What in the Force happened to you, Skywalker?" Mace muttered.

The figure did not respond. Instead, it simply inclined its head towards its Master. Mace sensed, rather than heard, Palpatine whisper.

"Yes, kill him now."

Within a split second, Anakin lit his weapon and leapt forward, straight at him. Mace ignited his own saber and leapt forward himself. He tried to exert inner control over his emotions, as a red spot of anger erupted in the back of his mind. Anakin would use his hate to try and defeat him. He mustn't allow himself to do the same. The two figures collided and midair, the lightsabers clashing violently against each other. The two men fell to the ground but were up in an instant. Vader swung his blade but Mace parried his blow, counterattacking with fierceness. The two engaged in a lethal struggle, blades swinging faster than the eye could track, lashing out at each other with such might anyone watching would surely cower in fright. Palpatine however stood were he was, watching his Apprentice do battle with the Jedi Master, a faint smile over his lips, savoring every moment of it.

Mace parried blow after blow, holding his own, yet he could find no weakness in Anakin's defenses. "His hate has made him strong." He thought. But hate wasn't enough. The two of them fought with ever increasing vigor, until Vader placed an unexpected blow. Holding Mace's saber at bay with his own, he swung his heavy boot around, which connected with Mace's jaw. The Jedi Master was sent off balance, and crumpled in a heap near the windowed bay. He got up just in time to see Vader hurling at him with another kick - this one sent him flying straight out the window. A single thought crossed his head as his body moved through the shattered glass, as if in slow motion. _Not again._ He flew out of the bay and crashed heavily on a landing platform a dozen meters beneath the window. He got back up groggily, and ignited his lightsaber just as Vader landed beside him. He swung his blade but the Sith ducked, and made an attack of his own. The battle pursued with renewed vigor, observed silently by Palpatine, who stood on the edge of the shattered bay, admiring the two men as they fought it out. Night was falling over Coruscant, and the wind blew hard on the landing platform. Mace dealt Vader a blow that forced him backwards several steps, but did not pursue him immediately.

"Why Skywalker?" He screamed.

The masked figure did not answer. It simply stood there, saber held low by its side, as if checking him out.

"You have betrayed all that you once stood for! To what avail! Look at what you have become! A monster of metal!"

This time Vader's rumbling metallic voice came back in response.

"You are in error Jedi. I have become greater that any man in this galaxy. I have ascended to supremacy."

"Your once brilliant flame has been extinguished, Skywalker." Mace panted. "You have been consumed! Consumed by evil and the dark side!"

"I will not lecture you as I have Obi-Wan, master Windu. Your narrow mind cannot possibly comprehend all the horizons that are now open to me. All the possibilities. Everything, infinity. Can you imagine what it feels like, Jedi, to have the galaxy resting in the palm of your hand? To have the power to let it live or die at your heart's desire? No, you do not, you cannot. I am all-powerful, Jedi."

"You are a monster!" Mace yelled back "You slew those you loved! Your friends! Your masters!" he paused "your wife."

Vader stood as if he had been changed to stone.

"You…shouldn't…how…"

Mace sneered at the Sith Lord. The figure seemed not so mighty all of a sudden. The face was downcast, the shoulders slightly slumped. The humming red blade hung loosely at his side.

"You slew her, Anakin. For a man who had promised what he could not deliver. You killed her for power. You should have known it. You should have sensed it. You slew her for evil, Anakin."

There was no response. Vader stared for a moment at his own booted feet. Mace could sense him struggling inside. Grief was washing in great waves against the bastions of anger and hatred in his mind. Within his office, Palpatine's smile faltered slightly. Without warning, in a sudden and unexpected movement, Vader's hand curled into a half-fist which he seemed to throw out in front of him. Mace was sent flying across the platform. He landed with a crash on the very edge, and scrabble as he might at the platform, his body weight pulled him off. He was left there, holding on to the edge with both hands, dangling there, with below him, a bottomless abyss, certain death. Vader came into view, gazing down at him.

"I win, Jedi."

But he did not lift his saber. Instead, he shut off the energy blade. What was he doing?

And then Mace heard it. A low rumbling sound. The sound of a rapidly ascending ship. Mustering all his strength and aided by the force, he leapt out of his predicament and landed mere meters away from the Sith Lord, who was standing there, still gazing downwards. The rumbling sound increased until it became a roaring all around them, and then Mace caught sight of the ships. Three Republican Gunships rose from the lower levels of the streets and came to hover before them, fully armed and ready for battle. _Trouble_, Mace thought. He ignited his blade just as the first salvo was shot, and parried the beam, but the force of it was such that it nearly knocked the weapon from his hands. The three gunships encircled him, and cords were dropped from each one, upon which many clone troopers began descending in rapid succession. Vader on the other hand, leapt lightly up into the cargo hold of one of the crafts, and hung on with one gloved hand. He threw the Jedi Master one last glance before the vessel began to take distance, and finally disappear amid the traffic lanes of Coruscant. Mace had no time to stop him. He stood firmly in the center of the platform, wielding his saber with incredible might, deflecting shots by the dozen as they came in at him and were sent back. The clone troopers were apparently serving the sole purpose of delaying him. He made quick work of them however, and turned to see the last gunship begin to depart. He leapt with all his might and managed to hook one hand on the edge of the cargo hold. He clambered into the hold and took out the clone who came rushing out of the cabin to challenge him, sending him screaming down into the streets of the city. He sliced the door apart with his saber and climbed in. The pilot was still strapped in, and seemed bewildered to see a stranger inside his cockpit in mid-flight.

"Hey! You're not sup-agh!"

The violet blade passed right through the chair, and Mace sheathed it as he pulled it out again. He got rid of the pilot's limp body and leapt into the chair, as the gunship was beginning to drift dangerously towards the lower left. He looked around for a few seconds at the controls. He wasn't familiar with flying, least of all a large ship like this one. He noticed on an active radar panel two red blips among a sea of blue ones. The other gunships. Mace gunned the reactors and the ship shot forward at a terrific speed. He decided the best way to catch up would be to avoid flying _in_ the traffic lanes, so he dropped some altitude and sped on, beneath. Before long, the second gunship came into view. It was weaving its way through the traffic, slowed by it. Mace could not sense Vader aboard. He must be on the first vessel. The ship's targeting system automatically aligned the other vessel and locked. A small red button began flashing. Mace hammered it. The gunship's lasers spat green beams of high-energy death, which shot straight into the reactors of the other ship. Reactors, fuel tanks, and missile racks exploded within the other vessel, which began plummeting like a rock, trailing heavy black smoke behind it. Somewhere below in the city, alarm klaxons began sounding. Mace sped on. He felt he didn't have much time.

Palpatine averted his gaze from the city streets as the three ships disappeared from view. Master Windu had climbed aboard the third vessel. Why had Vader not slain him there and then, when he had the perfect opportunity? He knew the clones were unreliable in such small numbers. With anger bubbling inside him, he triggered his communications device.

"Prepare my shuttle for immediate departure. No crew, no pilots. Automatic pilot programmed for the Despayre system. And scramble all fighters in quadrants 1 through 4. I want that those gunships destroyed immediately." He rasped. "Both of them."

Mace's gunship roared through the traffic lanes, in hot pursuit of Vader's craft. Small green blips appeared on his radar as several ARC clone fighters fell on his tail. Something on the dashboard screamed a warning as one of them got a lock, and a split second later the ship rocked as laser beams impacted, nearly sending him off course. Thankfully, his shields held the blast. The fighters didn't seem in the slightest discouraged however, and kept on blasting away at him. Mace jerked back on the controls and the gunship ascended into the middle of the traffic lane. _Too many risks of firing upon civilians_, he thought. He was so wrong. Another blast shook the gunship and then another. They were mad! Mace pushed his reactors to maximum. At this speed he would catch up with Vader in less than a minute. The inconvenient part was that he would overheat in two. If he survived that long. A quick glance at his shield power gauge indicated they were almost half gone. The gauge dropped another inch as yet another beam found its mark on his vessel. He began evasive maneuvers, swinging the gunship between civilian crafts, but there was no shaking the clone fighters. He suddenly noticed the red blip drift away from the traffic lane. If he followed it the fighters would undoubtedly blast him into space dust. He followed it. Smashing his controls to the right he sent his ship into a zigzag course to intercept Vader's, the fighters still hot on his tail and blasting. He fired a couple of shots of his own at the other gunship but missed by a wide berth. At a glance, he saw his nav computer had Vader's ship's most probable course neatly planned out for him. The Abyssin district. Mace could not fathom what Vader had in mind. Maybe he was just trying to keep him in the air long enough to give the ARCs enough time to blast him. _Well though luck_, Mace muttered as his computer whistled a target lock. He mashed the buttons and two beams of brilliant green shot out from his ship's guns and impacted in the cooling vent of Vader's craft. _At this speed he'll overheat in seconds_. And so it seemed. The other gunship rapidly slowed, and Mace's computer confirmed torpedo lock. No. Not like this. This wasn't the way of a Jedi. Vader's smoking ship lost several hundred meters altitude in a few seconds, before crash-landing on a small cargo platform of some droid manufacturing company. Knowing he had no time to land, Mace instead slowed as much as he could in as short a time as he could, blew the cockpit hatch, and force-leapt out, lightsaber drawn. He landed beside the smoking ruin of Vader's gunship. Vader was alive, he could feel it.

A moment later, he saw the dark figure walk out as majestically as it could of the ruined ship. Its cloak was torn in several places and a deep dent marked its helmet. The blow would likely have killed any lesser man, Mace reckoned.

"So be it Jedi." Vader grumbled. "I have left you ample chance of surviving, yet you persist in attempting the impossible. There is no defeating me."

"You are diminished, Vader. It did not take much. Your Master has left you."

Vader gazed at him perplexedly for a few seconds, as if probing his own feelings, trying to assess if what Mace was saying was true or not. Mace had felt Palpatine's presence withdraw as they were racing in the gunships, and there was no concealing such a depression in the Force. He had departed from Coruscant.

"The Jedi Order is not dead, and it will survive as long as I stand."

"Then you will fall, Jedi."

And with that Mace held his blade in front of him once again.

"Fight, Skywalker."

Vader drew his saber and engaged yet again with the Jedi Master, but his strength was greatly diminished. The crash had affected his mental as well as his physical capacities. Mace could sense great crumbling in his mind, but he could not determine the cause. There was a tingling in the air, an almost electric feel as the two figures lashed out at each other. Something would happen soon. The Force itself seemed to be holding its breath. Before long Vader's rasping breaths turned to sickening metallic wheezes, yet Mace was relentless. He dealt stroke after stroke, Vader parrying him with increasing difficulty. Not for ever. With a yell, Mace swung a full circle and brought his blade swinging around with amazing force. Vader intercepted the blow but the combined force of Mace's attack and Vader's weakness ripped the lightsaber from his hands. He fell to his knees, wheezing. The mighty figure, the all-powerful Sith Lord knelt there, gasping for breath on a cargo platform, between his enemy and the ruins of his ship. Mace slowly walked up until he stood right in front of him. Vader looked up, and spoke in a rasping voice.

"Kill me now Jedi. Do it, and be over with."

But Mace just stared at him.

"Where has all your glory gone now, Skywalker?" He said, his voice torn between resentment, pride, pity and grief. "Where is the almightiness? Look at what you are, Skywalker. Look at where the dark side has brought you. You were a fool to let yourself be seduced by it. You have become an icon of Evil. A puppet of the dark side."

"You have…no idea…the power…" Vader turned his head up to face the Jedi Master. "I saw beyond your Jedi limits. The dark side…freed me. I did it…for her…and for…me."

Every word seemed to cost him an effort.

"Anakin Skywalker, for what you have done there is no redeeming." Mace said coldly. "You have betrayed the Jedi Order, your friends, masters, and democracy, and all that you once stood for. It there is no longer an ounce of good in you, Anakin Skywalker, I therefore condemn you to death for the cruelty of your acts."

Vader gave the slightest of metallic snorts. Mace lifted his lightsaber high over his head, and in one deft movement, brought it down upon the kneeling figure. Silence reigned as the Dark Lord of the Sith slowly toppled over and lay there on the platform, dead. A deep and penetrating cold seemed to grip Mace as he stood there, looking over his slain enemy. Skywalker, the one who had single-handedly slain half the Jedi Order, lay slain in his turn at Mace's feet. He sheathed his lightsaber and knelt beside the corpse.


	8. Epilogue : One with the Force

Palpatine sat calmly in his shuttle, even as he read the news of the death of his apprentice. The shame of it all, he thought, not without a hint of grief. He had been so promising, yet so foolish. So strong, yet so vulnerable at the same time. He would find another. Time would pass, and would bring him new apprentices. It had done so before, and it would again. For now he would see to the finalization of his new project, the Death star. In time though, he would have his revenge. The Jedi would pay for his crime, whether he need be hunted to the farthest reach of the galaxy or beyond. He would pay.

Mace Windu stood atop a hill overlooking a small town on Haruun Kal, his homeworld. Many buildings lay in ruins, after the devastation of the clone wars. The savagery of the war had extended even to this desolate fringe of the galaxy. Jungles had been burned down. Great craters pockmarked the landscape, where planetary bombardment had taken place. A few hundred yards from the village there stood a tall smoking mound, the bodies of the fallen, with at its feet a small collection of flowers and letters. It was a custom on his home world to burn on a pyre at night the bodies of those slain in battle, so that their spirit could join the stars and be at piece. Mace stood silently atop a hill, eyes closed. Before him lay a small pile of ashes, all that was left of Darth Vader. Mace had seen to his cremation. Jedi or Sith, when one linked to the Force departed from the living world, their bodies either left by themselves, or were cremated. Mace was deep in thought. He reviewed all that had happened in the past week, from his learning of the Death Star to his final duel with the Sith Lord. But one detail nagged at him still. Why hadn't Vader finished him on the platform? He could have killed him there and then, ended all opposition to his power…why hadn't he done it? Despite all his wisdom gathered over ages, Mace could not find the answer within himself.

In the meantime Palpatine was still loose. He would want revenge for his apprentice, that was the way of the Sith. Mace would have to see to his destruction before he could finalize his ultimate weapon or begin the forming of new Sith Lords. Not for the first time in his life, he found a nest of bitterness deep inside himself. A wild envy to throw it all to the wind. What mattered now anyway? He could stay here, where his true people needed him. For the first time in years, Mace Windu let his emotions sweep him away, there atop the small hill. A tear ran down his cheek and into the pile of ashes. No. He would see to the destruction of the Sith before all things. His mind full of future projects, he departed from the hilltop, leaving the ashes of the Sith Lord to drift away with the wind. Unheard by all, a silent whisper lifted from the ashes and departed towards the stars, a bodiless feeling, tasting at last the freedom it had long sought.

NOT THE END.


End file.
